The Struggling Sprout
by Calliope Clown
Summary: When Zyra begins to feel she isn't being as effectual as she should be, she attends a training seminar. When it doesn't "teach" as promised, Zyra has to learn to git 'er done herself.


After another tough loss on the Rift, Zyra felt (bad). She felt a drive to improve herself—(because of feelings of guiltiness). It made her feel relieved to learn she could improve when she saw Draven and Darius had opened a League of Legends Combat Clinic. For the small fee (spare change, really), champs would be offered a course on "Kickin' ass like a regular Noxian street brawler! Hand-to-Hand and Laning Combat Courses offered!"

"That sounds good!" she thought. "No more ignominiously tossing off spells in the back while my team takes the heat—it's time to become proactive!"

She walked up the booth where Darius and Draven sat. "Ready to learn to kick ass and take names?!" bellowed Darius. "I'll teach you to grapple myself—I'm quite well-versed in Noxian elbow-and-collar wrestling myself. Watch!" He then grabbed Draven by his legs, tried to do a suplex on him, but fell forward with Draven on top of him, the two brothers' armor landing on the ground with a _CLANK!_

"Get off me, you idiot!" shouted Draven. "I know I look good, but you could _at least_ be a bit more _subtle!"_

"Get your head out of the clouds, we've got a customer to convince!" grumbled Darius. "Well, what do you think, Zyra?"

"I think it's pretty good—even learning to get someone over your head like that seems useful. Sign me up!" she beamed, as she handed over her cash.

"All right, then," said Darius. "See you this evening on the Rift."

Zyra arrived at the entrance to Summoner's Rift anxious for what would be in store. Darius and Draven arrived a bit late, greeter her, and walked over the announcer's box.

"We'll be commentating while you lane, we'll coach you up."

Zyra nodded, and she was beamed into the Howling Abyss for a solo matchup against Lux. The two strode into lane.

Lux waved at Zyra. "Good luck!" she shouted. "I've been offered a pay raise by the Demacian special forces if I can prove myself better in one-on-one combat. I've decided to do just that, and to put on a show, too! Let's make this fun."

Zyra was a bit apprehensive at this suggestion. How could she put on a show, she thought, if she wasn't even that gifted—certainly not as Lux. "I think we should keep it simple—I'm only here to learn," she shouted back across the lane.

"So be it!" replied Lux. "I'll _make_ it fun."

The laning commenced—the victory condition for the lesson being first blood or first to take two turrets. Lux was better at last-hitting than Zyra, the difference especially clear with no Summoner to guide the poor thorn-mage. She tried as best she could, but she could only manage to last hit five creeps in a few minutes.

"Having trouble, Zyra?" asked Draven. "Try to hit the creeps when they—" Zyra couldn't hear the rest of what Draven said, as when she was distracted by trying to hear Draven, Lux fired a singularity at her, which staggered her and made her ears ring. Lux followed it up with several autoattacks, a Binding, and several more autos.

She got her bearings successfully. "What are you doing, Zyra?" Darius asked. "Throw some stuff back at her." She threw out her vines, but Lux just dodged it and launched another singularity at her. Zyra could hardly think at this point as she trudged back to grab some Health Relics.

"Quite the performance you're putting on, Zyra!" sneered Lux. "It's cute—keep it up!" She threw yet another Binding at Zyra, but missed, and Zyra finally managed to land another spell on Lux, who just hit level 6.

 _I've got to stay dominant here_ thought Lux. "Hey, weed-girl!" she shouted. "Has this bridge's snowy weather got you down?" Zyra was about to respond that she didn't rely on sunlight all that much anymore, but Lux managed to land a binding, a singularity, and Final Spark on her opponent. Zyra groaned—she only had about 70 HP left, and when she saw her burned-off leg, she screamed as the pain hit her. There was no recalling on the Abyss, so she had to crawl back to another Relic.

"Heh, nice blast, Lux!" Darius chuckled from the box.

"How does that feel, Zyra? Like twisting a stem from a flower, I'd say!"

Zyra was in so much pain, she fainted mid-way crawling towards the relic. Lux walked over to the unconscious mage and shot her again for victory.

Zyra was a bit put off from losing. _That Lux was awful!_ she thought. _She shot off my leg instead of finishing me off, just so I could suffer! Hopefully I'll have learned something by the next lesson._

She arrived the next day a bit apprehensive. Darius and Draven seemed a bit surprised she'd arrived, which dampened her spirits a bit. _Was I beaten so badly that I'm expected to never return, now, to save face?_

"Hopefully you'll do better today, Zyra," Darius reassured her, Zyra thought, a bit condescendingly. "Just try to keep your head in the game." Still, his advice was well-meant. Zyra saw Lux walking in from a distance, accompanied by important-looking people. She thought she saw Lux sneer and wink at her from a distance, but she reminded herself, _Keep your head in the game._

The two champs stepped onto the summoning platforms and were transported to the Crystal Scar, where a white circular mat had been spread in the center of the arena. Darius came on the speaker, "All right, girls. Time to learn some close combat. The rules: first to a submission or pin wins. Magic's been disabled here. Good luck, both of you step onto the mat."

Lux cracked her knuckles and leered at the flummoxed Zyra, still glancing around apprehensively as she walked onto the soft white padding. _Close combat?!_ she thought. _Aren't we supposed to be mages?!_

"Ready, begin!" said Darius. Lux dashed forward, and Zyra put her arms out, trying to keep her at bay, but Lux just ducked low, grabbed her legs, pulled her off her feet, flipped her, and began her Boston crab submission hold. Zyra groaned in pain— _What am I supposed to do, here?_ "L-lux,"she whispered. "How do I submit?"

"You're really going to give up that easily?" teased Lux. "I want to put on a show, remember?" She then, while still maintaining her grip on Zyra's legs, performed a full backbend so that Zyra's hips were over her own head. Zyra shrieked in panic. _She's going to hurt me!_ she thought. "Wait 'till they see this!" Lux whispered to Zyra. She rolled backward, wrapped her legs around Zyra's shoulders, and farted in her face!

The arena was filled with laughter—everyone, Lux, Draven, Darius, and all the dignitaries were all laughing at Lux's cruel maneuver, as Zyra lay motionless in resignation. "You really got her there, Lux!" Darius roared, his voice raspy with the intensity of his laughter. "That's what I call _execution!"_ howled Draven.

Darius, still doubled over with laughter, hit the button giving victory to Lux, since it was apparent Zyra wasn't getting up. The two champs were summoned back to the Institute. Zyra, dejected, trudged out of the building as she saw Lux shaking hands with the figures, all of them still sniveling with laughter.

"What is this, some kind of joke?!" Zyra shouted, once out of earshot. "I come to learn, yet I'm mutilated one day, and _farted on_ the next? I'm done with training— I'm not going to sacrifice my dignity for some awful light-mage's amusement and some poorly-contrived notion of improvement for me."

After a few days spent brooding, Zyra decided to return to the Rift—she wasn't going to let some "Training Clinic" get in the way of her supporting a team to victory. And when in a match against Lux where she landed an ult giving the grateful Garen a pentakill against that now-dumbfounded witch's team—Zyra was satisfied she'd improved in her own way.


End file.
